


don't give your name, you don't have one

by straddling_the_atmosphere



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Body Horror, Canon-Typical Behavior, Gen, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Mythology References, Psychological Horror, post episode 158
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-24 21:57:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21106664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straddling_the_atmosphere/pseuds/straddling_the_atmosphere
Summary: Jon follows Martin into the Lonely. Peter Lukas did say that he wouldn't make it easy for him.





	don't give your name, you don't have one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maricolous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maricolous/gifts).

> title taken from wait for me on the hadestown soundtrack bc. well. you know.
> 
> my take on what episode 159 would be even tho it DEFINITELY won't be this bc this ending is far too hopeful

_"Are you scared, Jon?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Perfect."_

The Lonely is not what Jon had expected. He had expected...quiet, he thinks. The fog that sometimes curled around Martin and turned him near incorporeal, trailing behind him like wisps of smoke. A London enshrouded in grey.

It's loud, though. Like any London day, with soft drizzles of rain falling onto his head and a crowd of commuters pushing against him, shoving, unseeing. He tries to protest but his voice is stuck in his throat, and he begins to realize that nobody can actually see him.

Which makes sense, he thinks wryly. What's lonelier than being in a crowd full of people and realizing that they can't see or hear you. Alone and yet surrounded. Invisible.

He pushes his way through the crowd, which begins to thin presently enough. The cacophony of noises quiets and it begins to look like the Lonely Jon had originally expected. An empty city, skeletal, buildings stretched to the sky like long, bony fingers. Jon shivers and searches restlessly, the aching pressure to his head getting worse.

_"Just open your mind," Elias tells him, those wrong eyes glittering like a cat under a street lamp. "Drink it all in. Know their route and simply...follow it."_

Jon's fingers flex and he closes his eyes and his mind _expands_, hungry as always, hungry as Jon always keeps it since he's refused to take a statement. His mouth is parched, lips dry, and the aching emptiness of his mind fills him up, as filling as air, but he searches, onward, more, relentless, the watcher inside of him seeking more and more until--

"I will _not _be making this easy for him," Peter Lukas says, his arm tight around Martin's forearm.

Martin doesn't try to pull away, his skin clammy and the Archivist_ knows _it would be cold to the touch, corpse-like. 

"It would have been much easier for you to have just done as I taught you," he says to Martin and Martin finally refocuses, glaring at him.

"Oh, did I disappoint you, then? You know, it's because of you that I don't actually care," he snaps, but there's no real force behind it, force that the Archivist knows Martin has.

Fog enshrouds them, lingering wherever they step. Empty London is gone, leaving just blank, white mist that shifts wherever they move.

The Archivist snarls because Lukas has something of _his, _something that the Eye and what was before the Archivist, what was before the Beholding, the human that exists still deep down, has long since claimed.

Martin jerks his head up and Peter's grip tightens.

"_No," _he says, real anger coloring his voice for once, his face, pale and colorless with grey, sharp eyes, has gone pink at the tops of his cheeks with emotion. 

Martin's eyes are wide and he looks around, this time trying to shake Peter's grip off of himself to no avail. 

"Lest you forget, Archivist," Lukas says, voice sharp and sibilant as he stares up. "He came to me, unclaimed, unchained, with the barest hint of you on him. You followed him here and you're stuck here, forever."

_Nobody has ever willingly gone into and left the Lonely._

_They could say the same about the Buried, _a voice that sounds like Elias says inside of him, low and pleased. _And look at you. Marked and alive, a Hunter who followed you out at your beck and call._

"Martin," Jon gasps, coming back to himself, arm outstretched into nothing.

Rain falls gently onto his head, plastering his hair onto his scalp. He pushes it away from his eyes, glasses fogged up.

Ahead of him is a bridge. The end of it disappears into the mist. He takes a step, and then another, his footsteps heavy. His head feels fuzzy and lightheaded from hunger, and he remembers Basira's disappointed face when he'd taken a statement from someone, gluttonous and voracious. He remembers Daisy, wasting away as she forced her instincts quiet. 

Something in his gut tugs and he keeps moving, pushing deeper and deeper, the pain in his chest getting worse. 

"Jon," he hears, soft as a whisper and his breath catches. "Jon, forget me, please. Go home. Leave this place."

Jon shakes his head and keeps moving forward, following the whispery sound of his voice. He abandoned him once and he won't do it again. He can't--he can't, and he has to keep going, one step in front of the other, over the endless bridge.

"Jon." Georgie stands in front of him, her hands in her pockets. Jon's breath rattles in his chest.

"How--"

She tilts her head. "You've gotten yourself into a right mess, haven't you?" Her face looks kinder than it has in a long time and Jon wants so badly to touch her.

"Georgie," he rasps. "How?"

Georgie holds out her hand. "Come on, Jon," she says. "Let's get you cleaned up and home. The Admiral misses you."

Jon nearly reaches out and then jerks his hand back, shuddering at the cold that starts to seep through him.

"No," he says. "No--y-you hate me. And Melanie--you and Melanie are safe. This isn't you."

Georgie's face shifts then, different, meaner. "Giving up on me again, are you? Just like you always have. You've never cared enough to try to keep something alive, have you? Everything just _happens_ to you, so passive, so _weak, _aren't you, Jon?"

"Yes," Jon whispers, heart pounding. He is. He knows he is. Georgie sneers and climbs up onto the bridge railing.

"What about this, Jon?" she asks, stepping to the very edge. "Would you do something for me if you found me like this?"

"Georgie, no!" Jon yells, jumping forward when she gives him a mocking look and falls, his hands grabbing onto nothing but air. He stares at the fog and then curls his hands into his pockets, heart pounding, feeling nauseous and sick. She wasn't real. He knows that, but he doesn't Know it. He doesn't Know anything here and it feels disoriented, like he's half blinded and wandering around touching walls to try to figure out what is and isn't the truth.

All he can do is walk, which he does, Georgie's cutting little smirk engraved into his brain. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes hard.

"She wasn't real," he says softly to himself. "You're alone. You aren't doing this for her."

He doesn't know how much time has passed, only that he's walked and the bridge hasn't ended, that he can still hear someone whisper his name occasionally and it propels him forward, even if he can't quite figure out why.

He tries to Know, tries to open his mind, as Elias had called it, but something is stopping him, and whether it's Lukas or just the Lonely forcing him to isolation, he doesn't know. He just knows he's alone. 

"I wouldn't have pictured this, you know," someone says casually, right near his ear. Jon nearly jumps out of his skin and Tim grins at him, easy with him in a way he hadn't been since they'd both left the research department. "Forgot how easily you frighten, boss."

"Tim," Jon says softly, digging his nails into his palms. 

"That's me," he says, bowing mockingly. "Did you miss me, Jon?" He looks at his nails. "Can't really say I missed you."

Jon swallows hard, painful around his dry throat. He doesn't say anything. Tim tsks, shaking his head.

"Just never pictured you doing all of this for Martin," he says. "You know, _I _always liked him. Invited him for drinks, to parties. But he was always looking for you. No accounting for taste, I guess." He gives Jon a contemplative once-over. "Although, I get it. There's something appealing to the scruffy professor-types to some people."

Jon flushes despite himself and Tim laughs. "Well, you know I'm not real, so I'm not going to try to trick you. But I am gonna ask," he says, voice serious. "Is he worth it, Jon? You can leave, you know. Any time you want. You can take my hand and you'll forget it all. The Entities, the gnawing hunger of needing statements, of needing to _know. _You'll forget the rest too," he adds kindly. "Just be Jonathan Sims again."

Jon..._wants_ in a way he didn't think he could anymore, excepting knowledge and statements. He wants to take Tim's outstretched hand, to leave the Magnus Archives forever. To go back to a time where he was just normal, when he had an apartment he lived in and occasionally went out to tea with Georgie.

And what, a voice inside of him asks. What life was that before? No friends, no connection. No purpose. You'd have never met Basira, or Daisy, or, or.

"Martin," Jon says, voice shaking a little. "I'm not going to leave Martin."

Tim sighs. "Suit yourself," he says. "I can't even tell you that he wouldn't do the same for you, because that's what got you both into this mess, hasn't it?" Jon notices suddenly that Tim's eyes are wrong. They had always been dark, friendly. He remembers Rosie had called them "smoldering" once. This Tim's eyes are grey, colorless, without a bit of warmth.

Jon pulls himself to his full height and just looks at him. "I'll find you, Lukas," he says, voice very soft. "And when I do, I'm taking Martin, and leaving you to rot."

Tim's face is suddenly caved in, rotted, an eye gone and leaving his skull exposed. "You can certainly try, Archivist," he hisses, as Tim begins to fall to pieces in front of him, another eye, a finger, his whole arm. "Get a good look at this one. This is how he died. This is how you killed him."

And Tim explodes in front of him, splattering his face with guts and gore. When he stares down at his hands, they're streaked with white along the worm scars where Tim's blood should be. He wonders, if he looked at his face, would he have the same?

"How many more are you going to show me, Lukas?" Jon asks aloud. He can see the end of the bridge now, barely, a darkness in the fog that's different than before. A change in scenery.

There is no answer.

He moves forward, pushing faster and faster, nearly running.

_Jon, _someone whispers and he skids to a stop, chest heaving. He can see the stairs.

_Don't._

"Don't ask me that," Jon hisses, voice urgent and low, and something barrels passed him, too fast to make out the blur. He stays very still for a moment before running after it. "Wait for me, Martin," he says and when he steps off the bridge his mind _opens_, vast and uncomprehending and wide--

"Let go of me," Martin snaps and Lukas doesn't.

"I've made the mistake of underestimating you once," he says. "I won't be doing that again."

"I've only ever needed once," Martin says viciously and Lukas smiles coldly.

"So it seems."

"He's coming after me."

"Yes," Lukas agrees. "And in doing so, he's doomed you both. And Elias as well, the old fool. And even if he succeeds, well, that puts your Jon in even more danger"

Martin stops struggling and Lukas laughs. 

"Oh, Martin. Privy to so many secrets except the most important ones. Elias encouraged this, planned this." He leans forward, in his face. "Do you want to know why?"

Martin's eyes are wide. "Why?"

"Because he needs an Archivist that has been touched by all of us. And I was the last to go." His smile is slow, mean. "And I think you know why."

Martin looks around wildly, like he knows, he knows that the Archivist can see, can hear-- "Jon, _go."_

And Jon is back in his body, heart racing. The bridge is gone and in its place a cave. His silver-striped hands shake in front of him. Something paces in front of him, half humanoid, half...something else.

Its eyes gleam when it stops in front of Jon, breathing hard.

"Daisy?" Jon asks, voice soft. Its teeth gleam as it bares them. It has Daisy's hair, glossy and dark, her thin, sickly frame. It has her nose, long and sloping and Roman in its stature. But it has a mouth full of fangs, gleaming and sharp, and her eyes, the same deep brown but glowing like an animal's.

Jon reaches out and it goes still, but doesn't snap when Jon puts a hand on its shoulder. "Daisy," he says again and she makes a low, hungry sound like a predator. _A Hunter at your beck and call._

"You remember me," The Archivist says, a static noise filling his ears, and Daisy watches him with those animal eyes. "I need--" He licks his lips, voice cracking. "I need you to Hunt for me." Her gaze sharpens at the word and she watches him, waiting.

"Martin," he says. "You remember him?" 

Her nostrils flare but she gives a short, sharp nod. 

"Alive, Daisy," he adds. "I want him alive."

The Archivist follows her deeper into the cave, feeling his (their) heart beat through his ears, blood pumping along his temples. His (their) head, usually aching and pained, is filled with one thought only--_Mine, _no thought or reason, time a fleeting thing to be unconcerned about.

"Clever," Lukas rasps when the Archivist turns a corner and sees him, Daisy pinning him against the wall. "And impossible."

"Where is he?" The Archivist snarls, potent, and Lukas winces and then laughs, choked by Daisy's arm. 

"You can't compel me in my own home, Archivist," he says and the Archivist just presses closer.

"_Where is he?" _

Lukas grins, mouth full of teeth, and Daisy digs her claws into his shoulder but he doesn't bleed.

"You can take him," he says, coughing. "If you can find him. Show Elias how ready you are for that Watcher's Crown."

The Archivist pulls back and he (they) opens his (their) eyes, seeing Everything. The Lonely is everywhere, endless, existing wherever lonely souls exist. It is impossible to kill, a slow, creeping Power that will be around always, stealing souls nobody will miss. The Archivist searches for one lonely soul in particular, _his, __theirs, _aware at the back of his (their) mind that Daisy is snarling at Peter Lukas, and if she decides to try to kill him he (they) will not stop her.

"Jon," a voice says, _(who is Jon?) _and there is Martin, in all his glory, pale and dirty and _theirs. _

_"Martin," _they say and Martin's lovely eyes widen, his web-lined hands, his Lonely soul, marked by so many but only theirs. 

"You shouldn't have followed me," he says and the Archivist ignores him, watches him greedily. "I can't leave."

Lukas laughs again. "Oh, he is strong, isn't he?" He sighs, then shoves Daisy away, hard enough that her body cracks against the rock wall and goes still. "I said you could leave if he found you. And I've never lied to you, have I?"

"No," Martin says dubiously.

"That's right," Lukas says. "So you can leave. You and your Archivist." He smirks, wide and deadly. "But he won't be able to see you. Trust, Archivist," he says, turning to look at them. "Do you trust Martin?"

The Archivist bares their teeth. They do, _they do, _but they've always trusted their Vision more, their Knowledge.

"Lead him out, then," Lukas says with a shrug. "And trust that he's behind you. Because you won't Know." He taps his nose, amused. "And if you make it out, tell Elias that it's been a good game, and I'll see him next time." 

And he winks out of existence, Daisy gone too, and Martin...The Archivist sucks in a shocked breath.

"I'm here, Jon!" Martin's voice says, disembodied. "I...I can see you. I'll follow you."

The Archivist hates this, hates not being able to see, hates not Knowing as they walk out of the cave, back onto the bridge, the fog pressing down on them. 

It is empty this time, truly empty. No Tim's or Georgie's or Daisy's to keep them company. Just the suffocating pressure of the Loneliness, and something inside of the Archivist chafes, wants to turn around and look at Martin, to make sure he's really there. They walk, quiet, and their fingers twitch.

"I'm still behind you," Martin says and the Archivist shifts, then takes another step forward. "It's not really you, is it, Jon? You've gone more Archivist than man." His voice is soft. "I think I'm starting to care about that again. Or...think that I should be caring. But you...you came for me. That's--" The Archivist can hear an exhale. "A lot. Even though it was a _bad _idea because I think the end of the world I was trying to stop is still going to happen _because _you came to rescue me. Which I guess I couldn't have guessed. God, I'm rambling, aren't I? The point is. The point is...Jon. I'm going to follow you. I always am. But I need you to be _you. _I know the Archivist is a part of you now, but I can't let it be the whole thing, you know? I--Jon?"

(_Jon. They know the name Jon. Familiar. It's...tea. Warm with a splash of milk. Kind eyes in the face of waspishness. It's...heart-to-hearts on a cot in the office, hiding from worms. It's hovering over the desk and manhandling them to go to sleep, on said cot. It's _"trust me, please," _and doing their best, doing his best. It's...)_

"Martin," Jon says, voice rasping and low, and Martin laughs tearfully.

"Jon," he says. "You're back. Don't look around."

"Martin," he says again, and there's a door in front of them, yellowing paint, familiar. 

"Jon," Martin says again, voice soft.

Jon takes a breath. "I--"

"I know," Martin replies. "I know, Jon."

He dips his head down and swallows, then nods. He reaches out, gripping the doorknob, hot to the touch. There's another weight around his hand, another hand, but he doesn't look.

"Are you ready?" he asks quietly.

"To the end of the world," Martin says, and the door swings open. 

**Author's Note:**

> did NOT get this britpicked sorry. also first time writing for magnus! (and probably last bc i am FAR too stupid to write magnus archives fic alsdkjf)
> 
> for zoe, who introduced me to magnus and also patiently answers my questions whenever i (often) forget about a character that was in like episode 37 and i'm listening to episode 145 and they come back and im like WHOM IS THIS?


End file.
